#it's time for that springtime sadness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sister-lucifer · 1 year ago

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READ THE FIRST PART HERE

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending.

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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air.

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze.

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new.

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that.

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly?

You don’t really have an answer to that.

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think.

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose.

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice.

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one.

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch.

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything.

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods.

But you can’t.

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him.

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all.

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.”

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him.

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?”

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all.

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer.

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house.

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable.

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face.

“…Do I think what?” He asks.

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second.

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this.

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.”

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments.

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable.

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you.

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.”

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that.

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.”

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues.

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause.

“…What did you say?”

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…”

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here.

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit.

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse.

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.”

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him.

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean.

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.”

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues.

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.”

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look.

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink.

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that?

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent.

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze.

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.”

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you.

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do.

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house.

You’re alone again.

Now what?

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you.

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside.

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems.

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice.

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#gender neutral reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta angst #marble hornets fluff #marble hornets angst #fluff #angst #tim wright #masky #tim wright x reader #masky x reader

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months ago

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RTA, do you have a record of when exactly the first rumours about Harry and Meghan divorce/separation started? Or how? And what was being said at that time?

My Spidey senses have been tingling every since it was reported that Meghan shoped for a post divorce book deal. I wonder if Meghan herself is fanning those rumours. It serves the dual purpose of needling Harry as well as bringing back some interest in her. As cringe and embarrassing as she is, a lot of people are saying she is the one who seems to be working while Harry just wants to lounge by the poolside.

To be clear I don't think so, some people I've talked to say this as a joke. I think whatever money they have or have coming in is because of Harry and not because of her.

This is beginning to look a lot like a devaluation phase of Harry.

Divorce/separation rumors about the Sussexes have been around the wedding. In other words, very few people outside of the Sussex Squad thinks (or thought) they were together for the long haul. So divorce has always been swirling around them. Some serious, some not.

But if I had to say, I'd say the vibes around Sussex divorce rumors changed in late 2021/early 2022.

Late 2021 was right after the Sussexes finally launched their post-Megxit strategy for American success. First was the Time 100 cover (aka Hair Stylist Harry), then was the NYC visit (which included their first red carpet gala) which was all panned, criticized, and ridiculed.

And hot on the Sussexes' heels - also pushing them out of the spotlight in a very major way - was a glamorous royal red carpet at the James Bond premiere, followed quickly by William's his first Earthshot ceremony and an emergency hospitalization by The Queen (which scared everyone). It's probably one of the better "this or that" comparisons in the Cambridges vs Sussexes dynamic and the Sussexes definitely got a very losing stick.

Springtime 2022 is when tarot readers and astrologists began picking up on divorce for the Sussexes. It started in March 2022 and went through about September 2022. This time is one of those instances where many different readers across several different platforms (including some that I know aren't aware of each other) are "seeing" similar things, so I feel pretty comfortable saying that there was something in the universe at this time legitimately about a Sussex divorce.

Hindsight being 20/20, 2022 was a pretty big 'make or break' year for the Sussexes. They had their first "major" tour (The Hague Invictus Games), their first visit back to the UK (the secret Windsor visit and the Platinum Jubilee, and Netflix and Spotify were demanding content. So everything had to go well for them. But it didn't.

Bad News #1: The secret visit to Windsor. No one even knew they were there till Meghan leaked it herself, and then no one really cared.

Bad News #2: The Hague IG. Meghan stole all the media coverage with her couture fashion and the criticism was loud. Very loud.

Bad News #3: Netflix dropped Pearl, Meghan's girl power show for children. Aw, so sad.

Bad News #4: Platinum Jubilee. Worse than no one caring, the public booed them and the family publicly shunned them three times (no carriage or balcony at Trooping, seats in Siberia at the jubilee service, no one going to Lili's birthday party).

I think this is when Meghan decided she needed to ditch Harry because it wasn't going well for her. She "separated" her brand from Harry's the first time, doing an interview with Vogue, a second interview with The Cut, and releasing Archetypes. Harry wasn't in the picture anymore. So perhaps this when she shopped her divorce memoir.

(And we all know what happened next - the European tour rudely interrupted by The Queen's death, followed by 3 weeks trapped in London for royal mourning and the funeral. She may have decided to stay, thinking that Harry was going to get a few upgrades now that he was the son of The King.)

Anyway, just a theory and speculation.

So long story short to answer your question: actual/real divorce rumors started in 2022 but the speculation has been around since the engagement, basically.

(Also, I don't have the link anymore but in May 2022, there was a YouTube tarot reader who predicted a 2025 divorce for the Sussexes. We will find out this year if they were right.)

#sussexes #divorce watch #rumors #theories

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cannedbananabread · 2 days ago

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Heart of Gold- Jonathan Joestar x Reader

word count: 7.1k

CW: smut, size different (c'mon, it's Jonathan), mentions of loneliness, and Dio just being himself

Can also be read on my ao3 if that's your pleasure

A/N: Hiii this is from a tumblr request for hurt/comfort for Jonathan! I know I said I would be taking these on a first come first serve basis but just know that I'm a liar. Really, I wanted to post this since the plot centers around Jonathan's birthday and it's technically still April, so I thought we could still celebrate. Also note that I'm playing fast and loose with Victorian conventions but for all intents and purposes, we're assuming women could attend their university.

Springtime had come to Hugh Hudson Academy and with it, all the gaiety that followed the Easter festivities now that the lengthening days had begun to encroach upon the end of the semester.

And that feeling of mirth is exactly what should have fallen upon Jonathan Joestar in the early evening hours of what was, all things considered, a perfectly pleasant day in early April. Winter had just waved its final farewell and all around, the earth was beginning to burst into bloom. In spite of the ample pretext for such merriment, Jonathan only felt plagued by an ineffable sadness that left him wandering the soft, verdant grounds of the university alone after such a disagreeable turn of events.

Loneliness had never been a foreign concept to Jonathan, as a child he had often kept to himself with only the companionship of his long-since-departed dog and even into his adolescence, he had never possessed the same proclivity towards fraternization as his social butterfly of a brother. In spite of the wontedness of this particular affliction, there existed certain occasions on which that inestimable loneliness exhibited a more profound effect on him. And, despite his most valiant efforts, today had ended up as one such occasion in which he had been so drearily beleaguered by that nebulous melancholy that, in his despondency, left him with that inescapable feeling of inadequacy that had once been a part of his daily routine. Over the years since his troubles had begun, Jonathan had become quite adept at rising above the challenges that had come his way, but today, it stuck him more virulently than it had in many years and he was left with only his dispirited contemplations. The fragile budding flowers and the golden light of the setting sun only served as a reminder of his insurmountable despair.

The evening had cast long, forlorn shadows across the boundaries of campus that cloaked the entire landscape in a strange and disquieting atmosphere that JoJo found entirely intolerable in his already gloomy state, so much so that he abandoned his excursion altogether and sought solace indoors.

It was perhaps by some greater force that he was drawn to the same quiet corner of the library where you had spent the entirety of the afternoon pouring meticulously over your studies, with the end of the year approaching there was precious little time to waste before you would be faced with your examinations. Seeing you there, so focused and natural, he felt the first glimmers of hope for regaining a modicum of enjoyment in the final moments of the day.

As if you sensed his presence, you glanced up from your notes and your eyes fell upon him with a look of utter bemusement, as though you had been pulled out of a trance of your own making and were not quite aware of the time of day, “oh, JoJo,” you muttered, half dazed and a bit ill-prepared to entertain a conversation in your addled state, but you were never unwelcoming of your most cherished friend.

“M-my deepest apologies my dear lady, I hadn’t meant to disturb you,” he began, stammering somewhat timorously, and, despite his emphatic attempts to maintain his gallant demeanor, you had noted a solemn dreariness in his usually welcoming eyes “I… I can tell that you’re busy, I will leave you to your work.”

“Nonsense, JoJo, I always have time for you. Please, sit a while.”

“Are you certain? I would not want to get in the way of your research and it appears as though I’ve already distracted you.”

“Not a bit, you are welcome any time, so please, sit down, stay, and won’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” he said softly and forced a smile that was intended to be one of appeasement, but in actuality, it resulted in a look of greater strain upon his face than he had cared to show. Nonetheless, he took a seat across from you and wilted into his assumed silence, he had already done enough to trouble you, he did not need to weave you a dire lamentation for his many misfortunes which he knew were not so terrible in the grand scheme of things. At present, it was enough for Jonathan to find comfort in the form of a familiar face.

“Hm, I don’t believe that, the truth is written all over your face.”

“It really isn’t worth mentioning, my brother and I had made plans for this evening, but something came up and he cancelled, that is all,” he said reassuringly, though you were not sure if the words had been to mollify your curiosity or rather conciliate his own negative feelings.

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry for that, it was quite rude of him, to cancel on such short notice. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, I shan’t want to burden you with my petty troubles.”

“Oh JoJo, you could never be a burden,” you said, hoping your dulcet words would encourage him to be a bit more forthcoming.

“All the same, I’ve already been enough of a disruption to you, I think I would rather allow you to get back to your work.”

You gave him a slight but curious nod and turned your attention back to the pages you had before been engrossed in. All the while Jonathan eased into his seat and stared vaguely into the distance as though he might find the answer to some grand question that nettled him. But even in those moments of reticence, he could not see anything but dismal uncertainty and he wondered what it was about him that forced him to endure such loneliness. Was he really so unlikeable that no one would want to spend time with him? Were all of his teammates and friends really only tolerating him because they enjoyed Dio’s company? Was he always destined to play second-fiddle to a brother who had such a penchant for attracting both friends and lovers alike?

“What is it, do you think,” he began in a gentle but shaken voice that broke the silence of the library, “that sets Dio apart from me?”

“Hmm,” you pondered for several moments while he looked through you with tired, glassy eyes that gave you the affectation that he was rather near tears, “really, I can hardly say, I don’t know Dio as well as I know you, though, on every occasion on which we have met, he seems the most upstanding and elegant gentleman, not all too different from yourself, though perhaps a bit more given to arrogance than you, but not any less affable. Why do you ask?”

“I see, so that is how it is,” he said in a voice that was more faraway than was typical for him. “Since we’ve known each other, I’ve always felt as though Dio has gotten ahead of me, no matter what I did or how hard I tried, he was better, smarter, stronger, and made more friends than I. I should not be surprised really, everything about him inspires approbation, even I must laud his abundant achievements… sometimes I feel as though everything he tries comes easy to him, a luxury I have never possessed. He’s graduating at the top of our class this autumn, no doubt Father will be pleased. I supposed he has eclipsed me in every conceivable capacity.”

“Don’t say that JoJo, you’re plenty good at what you do! You’ve thrilled the entire archeology department with your thesis, not many people can boast of that. At any rate, you needn’t be in competition with Dio, you're both so smart and diligent and it has been an honor to know the both of you.”

“I suppose, though I’m not sure I really compare to him at all.”

“Then you simply shouldn’t. I, of all people, understand how sharp Dio is. I took Latin with him last year and I’m certain he had a better grasp of the language than even our professor, but JoJo, he can never take your accomplishments away! You are so smart and wonderful and…” you trailered off, feeling at once, perfectly abashed by the careless adulation you had gotten so carried away with.

“Thank you for saying so. I must admit that it was hard growing up with him as a brother, he excelled at everything, far better than I ever could. It was as though I was constantly trying to catch up to him. Since he’s become a part of my family, all I’ve heard was talk of his many accomplishments when he’s just so…”

“Just so… what?”

“No, I shouldn’t say anything unkind, after all, it was all so frightfully long ago, I haven't any real evidence of the half of it.”

“Tell me, JoJo. You know that you can tell me anything.”

“It is but the remnants of our childish squabbles, and I curse myself for not being able to get over such pettiness. Dio has been nothing but kind to me for the better part of seven years. I should not cling to the past in this way, it’s incredibly unbecoming,” Jonathan said, feeling that old, weatherworn shame creep back into his soul. Dio had been unkind to him, yes, he knew that he hadn’t imagined the whole of his maltreatment, but as the years had gone on, JoJo wondered whether or not he had unjustly blamed Dio for many of the misfortunes in his life, after all, he never really knew what became of Danny and perhaps he could have won Erina back if he had not been so cowardly, and if being honest with himself, he really didn’t have any proof for most of the misdeeds he had attributed to Dio, it seemed just as likely now that it was simply that he had, in his youthful credulity, merely allowed his resentment to get the better of him. That is, in part, why he had made such a valiant effort to consider Dio both a brother and a friend, though in his heart, he knew that he had never quite found the strength of mind to forgive him. “I believe it is solely my own jealousy that blights me so furiously.”

“But what have you to be jealous of?”

“I… I suppose I always wished that I possessed the same natural ability to make friends as he does; I suppose I have never been as naturally social as he is and…” he paused for a moment and deliberately looked away from you. That horrible feeling of inadequacy clawed in his chest again and he could not stop the deluge of emotion that was ready to spring forward. He covered his eyes with his hand to hide the tears that had begun to stream indelicately from his eyes. “I suppose I just wished that people liked me as much as they liked him.”

“Oh dear, JoJo, please don’t cry!” You said in desperation and immediately found your arms had coiled around Jonathan’s shoulders, hoping, perhaps in vain, that the subtle contact would be enough to allay his sadness even for just a moment, “tell me what happened.”

“It really is such an unimportant thing,” he began, trying to muster the resolve to tell you something so thoroughly embarrassing, but his voice wavered and everything that followed came out in a mess of indiscriminate sobs, “but Dio had promised that we would go out to celebrate our birthdays with the rest of the rugby team but I suppose he found it more worth his time to spend the evening wooing a girl and naturally, once it had been made known that Dio would not be attending, the rest of the team lost interest as well, so I was left to spend the evening alone.”

“Oh, my, that was awful of him! He really cancelled on your birthday? I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, my actual birthday was Wednesday and, to be fair, my Father did have a small celebration for us while we were home over Easter, I shan’t make you think me more luckless than I am. I do apologize, I really don’t know what has come over me to be affected by so trivial a matter,” he said, mustering another even more glaringly false smile in order to dispel your worries, “I just wish that I knew what it is that makes me so unlikeable.”

“Oh, JoJo you can’t think that way, you are so far from unlikeable, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. I really… I think you’re brilliant, I think you’re…”

“I think you’re much too kind to me, I know I’ve never been as popular as my brother and I suppose it’s left me feeling insufficient.”

“JoJo, it doesn’t matter if you don’t have very many friends, you still deserve love and kindness and all the good things this world has to offer,” you said vehemently and held tightly to his arm, “and for what it’s worth, you will always have me.”

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered cautiously and blinked away the remaining tears in his eyes, “I hold our friendship in high regard.”

All at once the feelings you had kept locked away inside threatened to burst free. All the feelings you had for Jonathan that lingered, unmet on the outskirts of your relationship whirled through your brain so alarmingly that you thought every disjointed sentiment might spill from you before you had the chance to properly express them.

“I care so very deeply for you, JoJo. Do you understand what I mean?”

”Of course, you are my dearest friend after all,” he said with a fragile smile that hadn’t quite broken through the sadness in his heart.

You looked on with bleak determination. All that courage you had managed to summon had been for naught, you would have to see the rejection through to the end and accept the lack of reciprocation with grace, no matter the cost to your heart. Though when he looked back at you, his face was so earnest that all you could do was sigh. Perhaps he really hadn’t grasped the meaning behind your words of confession.

Jonathan was that so singular of creatures, he was gentle and gallant and always tried to see the very best in people, even when it was to his own detriment, and that was why you loved him so plainly. Or at least, so it had been perceived by everyone except Jonathan. In spite of the myriad of ways you had made your feelings known, he seemed blissfully unaware when it came to any matters of the heart. You had begun to wonder if it was mere politesse on his part to spare you your dignity if he did not reciprocate the same romantic intentions or perhaps another effect of his endearing naïveté.

No matter, you knew your feelings were true, they had been burning for so many years that the thought of another minute passing with them going yet unspoken seemed somehow torturous. So you mustered a brilliant determination from deep in the pit of your stomach to tell him, you had to. This was precisely the moment you had waited years for, you couldn’t allow it to slip carelessly from your fingers, you couldn’t live with not knowing, you had to tell him. “JoJo, you dolt, for all the brains in your head can you not see that I am in love with you?” You said in reckless honesty and perhaps a shade more vitriolically than grace would have granted you, but you had to force the words out before your better sense had a chance to tell you to dither.

Jonathan stared back at you quite blankly, in the wake of your divulgence he had not the words to tell you how he felt. Love, to him, had always been a concept that was just out of grasp. He’d tasted it so briefly in his youth, but the entire ordeal had left a bitterness on his tongue that made him tentative to drink from that well again. But there you were, so frightfully close and abundantly earnest in your appeal that he need only reach out and take it and all the luxury of your affection could be his.

“JoJo, did you not hear me? I said that I love you,” you said again, this time with a timid lilt in your soft, breathy voice, almost pathetic voice.

“I think…” he began, carefully choosing the proper words through the cascade of thoughts that flooded his mind, “I think that…” he trailed off again, the hesitation caused you to tug surreptitiously at the hem of your sleeve so as to conceal the nervous agitation that had fallen upon you in the moments of uncertainty; it was all you could do to keep from running headlong into the deepest fear that he would reject you. You had to hold firm, to love him was to be unwavering in the face of weakness.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you said, forcing a smile. For all the heartbreak you felt brimming in your chest, you did not want to make him feel worse for his lack of reciprocation. Even if he did not love you, he was still the goodliest man you’d ever known and you would hate to be the cause of any further sadness in his life. For you thought you could go on loving him as you did even if he did not feel the same.

“You… you love me…?” He finally muttered, though his timid voice still shook with uncertainty as he tried to profess his own feelings so openly.

“Of course JoJo, how could I not?”

“Because I… I don’t… could you not find better than me?” He murmured with his shoulders hung low.

Feeling more bold, you approached him and softly laid your hand upon his arm. “Never, there is no one more kind or gentle or deserving of love than you, Jonathan Joestar, and no matter what you say, I really do love you.” Your eyes meant for a mere fraction of a seconds before he hurriedly looked away with scarlet covering his face. You stood on your feet and stretched upward to caress the side of his crimsoned cheek, “even if you don’t love me.”

“That is not the case!” He shouted suddenly, a bit alarmed by his own exclamation, “I just… I never thought that… I never thought that you would feel the same so I have never put my feelings into words, but I…” all of a sudden he wrapped his big arms around you and buried his face diffidently in the crook of your neck, “I love you, too.”

“JoJo—!” You exclaimed, starting back in vapid astonishment, you had dreamed so many times of this moment and all the things you would say if your love had been requited, but standing there in the face of reality you were left in stupefied speechlessness, lacking even the most prosaic of expressions to utter. For several seconds that seemed to you, as lengthy as hours, a silence hung thickly like muggy summer air, neither of you darling to speak and mar the momentousness of the occasion. Then, as if compelled by a force beyond your control, he pulled you into his arms with such force that it caused you to crash against his broad chest.

“I love you,” he repeated and squeezed you tighter until his chin came to rest on the top of your head.

The enveloping warmth of his embrace left you imbued with a sense of contentment that you’d so rarely felt in your life.

Without wasting another precious second, you jostled free of his grasp and, leaning up on your tallest tiptoes, you pressed your lips ever so softly softly onto his. The tiny action caused his eyes to widen and a soft hue of pink to crawl across his cheeks.

It took another moment for him to regain what scraps of composure he had, but once he did, his lips crashed onto yours with unbridled fervor as if suddenly all the barriers that had kept his affection at bay had at least been removed and he could express all of his purest devotion.

When the kiss finally broke you were left needing several moments to catch your breath, but your search for stability did not go unassisted when you felt Jonathan again wrapping his arms around you.

How long you stayed like that, in the quiet of the library, listening to the pounding of his heart, you could not tell, but when next you happened to glance out the narrow mullioned window, you could see that night had fallen upon the entirety of campus.

“Come now,” You said to break the silence, pulling away from him and placing your hand firmly in his palm, “I’m going to take you out, your birthday deserves to be celebrated properly.”

So the two of you found yourselves in a little pub just outside of campus that you knew stayed open late. It was not perhaps the most upscale of places and you would have much rather taken him somewhere more suitable to his tastes, but at that hour and without a reservation, there were not many viable options. In spite of that, Jonathan found himself much enjoying it. The two of you were nestled in the farthest corner of the dingy little pub with only the hazy light of the gas lamps and a few errant votives strewn about the tables to illuminate your wary, lovestruck faces.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been to this place before,” Jonathan laughed, feeling jovial for the first time all evening.

“Well, I would assume that a man of such high esteem does not usually dine in such places, so I hope you won’t mind appealing to my distinctly plebeian tastes.”

“You shouldn’t think yourself beneath me in the slightest, I would love to enjoy all of the things you like and I am most grateful that you care for me enough to take me out tonight.”

“Well, I do love you, JoJo,” you said with a sardonic infection, but the sentiment was quite true and the sheepish smile that spread across your face made it all the more obvious.

“I adore hearing you say that,” he said and reached across the table to cup your cheek, “and I love you too.”

After your meal had been shared and longing glances exchanged, you were once again walking back to campus. The air was cool with the sun having long left the sky, but the breeze carried all the loveliness of April's vernal promise.

There was a hint of unfamiliarity in the way he took your hand and led you down the cobblestone street. You studied the feeling of his large fingers where they pressed against yours and you realized then, just how infrequently you had shared contact like this, even in all the years of friendship, you could only count a few singular occasions on which “Jonathan,” you began in a tone that was serious but also brimming with sensuality, “let’s go back to your place.”

Your voice had spun itself into a mesmerizing lilt that he had no choice but to obey, the proverbial siren’s song, your wants were his so long as he was yours. So, with only an understanding nod, he complied.

The two of you stopped on the threshold of the student lodgings that both Jonathan and Dio called home. It was not quite in keeping for a young man to bring a lady home. That you knew well, you could sense in the hesitation and Jonathan fumbled with the key, but in spite of any apprehensions, he did not give a single word of protest as he finally led you inside and up the stairs to his second-floor apartment.

Jonathan, green though he may have been, was no fool. He knew very well what inviting you into his room entailed and while it was not something he had ever considered, the mutual confession of love had awakened within him, a distant urge that he had often neglected. Sex, by its very nature, was a concept he had only vaguely toyed with and never dwelled upon in any meaningful capacity, that is not to say he didn’t find himself straying into salacious urges when lonely days turned to lonely nights, but any sort of concupiscence did not become him so he had not ever thought of you in that way until precisely this moment but the strength of his desire had won out against his inclination towards gallantry.

Even the way your fingers grazed over his palm and the brush of your skirt against his leg had been enough to set him ablaze. He wanted you, there was no denying that, he wanted you as he had never wanted another. Wholly and entirely. Beyond the bond that even sex would create, he wanted you to the depths of your soul. He had not known just how unbridled his devotion and been until the words of love had passed his lips. It has been so many years since he’d allowed himself to feel any kind of fancy. In all his wildest dreams he never thought it would ever be his.

The moment the two of you were in his room, the atmosphere felt different. There was something unmistakable and nearly electric that hummed in the air. Perhaps it was the thrumming of nervous hearts or the ripple of brimming energy that was palpable in every minute touch.

There was little haste in his actions as Jonathan once again drew you in for another deep kiss that rivaled the one you had shared in the library. Even still, you were immediately swept up in the moment, feeling lost amidst the sea of longing you had heretofore tread with delicate care but now, in the wake of having reified your feelings, you had suddenly been plunged in headfirst.

The vehemence of the kiss only seemed to increase and all the air between you felt suddenly sweltering, you became ever conscious of his hands roving over your body. Strong and protective, they seemed to still your beating heart and ease the troubles that had abounded as you moved to slowly unlace your dress. The heavy fabric tumbled to the floor and pooled at your feet in an ocean of muted linen.

Jonathan stepped back and admired you tentatively, a ruby glow burned his cheeks as he watched you slowly unlace your corset. Your pretty figure seemed all the more ethereal when seen only in the loose, gauzy fabric of your chemise. Perhaps in a show of solidarity, he pulled open his bow tie and clumsily undid the buttons of his shirt until it hung slackly open and framed his well-defined abs.

“JoJo,” said in awe, “you’re so handsome!”

“Do you really think so?” He asked and you nodded, ogling him with big doe eyes as his shirt slipped from the broad expanse of his shoulders, ”it pleases me so to hear you say that,” he said and with all the tenderness of a lamb, he eased you back into his arms and helped you to slip the meager garment over your head.

Heat bloomed on your skin where his fingers landed, you let out a lascivious gasp, urging him to continue in your state of heightened arousal. But he was slow and gentle, apprehensive in all his touches. Each action was unfamiliar to him and he made sure to study your reactions to ensure that you were alright first and foremost, as such, his hands lingered, heavy on your waist, just tantalizingly far away from any of your more sensitive regions.

You guided his hand up to your breast to disarm him of his trepidation and looked up at him with wide, eager eyes, knowing that your hope of the expedient sating of your desires would not be met, but it was a price you would pay if it lended him to be more self-assured. You had wanted him for so long, you certainly could wait a few trifling moments while he learned your body. “It’s okay JoJo, touch me, I want you to.”

He gave a little nod in response and kneaded the soft flesh beneath his firm fingers. You gave a shuddering moan and instantly, you found your hips rolling into nothing in a blind search for something, anything more. “Does that feel good?” He whispered in abashed earnestness as his other hand began to trail arduously along the slope of your leg, stoking the fire that raged within you.

“Yes,” you mewled, desperate to keep your urges at bay just enough to keep yourself from appearing as frightfully uncouth as you felt, but it very quickly presented itself as a losing battle, “keep going, JoJo, please, I implore you,” you whined indignantly.

“May I touch you here?” He asked as his fingers wandered up your inner thigh, stopping just at the precipice of your aching sex.

“Yes JoJo, I don’t want you to stop.”

Your consent served to embolden him and though the territory he treaded was unfamiliar, his confidence was bolstered by the silky little noises you made for him and, with resolve seemingly enhanced, he shed the final remnants of propriety to which he had been fettered.

It was then with more alacrity that he dipped his fingers between your legs, having abandoned the lingering degree of trepidation once he felt how incredibly wet you were for him. The tip of his finger traced your entrance, spreading your juices enough to allow him entry. He let out a curt exclamation that cemented itself somewhere between surprise and arousal when your tight walls clamped around his thick digit. Your face scrunched up in an effort to adjust to him, though he found the expression quite darling. He committed to a steady but undemanding pace, swirling his thumb over your clit and curling his finger inside you to stretch you open until he was able to add a second.

“Oh God, JoJo,” you moaned and your head fell back against his pillow, unfurling your hair in a mess of tangled locks. The lustful utterance of his name caused him to shudder, god, he hadn’t been so acutely aware of his own needs until that exact moment. He shifted precariously in his spot and moved to undo the top button of his trousers, it was all he could do to offset his desire, your pleasure was more pressing at the moment, even more so than the ache he felt between his legs.

He watched each of your little reactions intently, the way your chest heaved and your hips rose in tandem with his ministrations and the syrupy arousal that dripped from your cunt like dew.

Something came over him then, perhaps it was selfishness, but he pulled himself lower and stationed himself at the foot of the bed and looked to you for consent before advancing of his own accord. “May I?”

There was something so innately tantalizing about seeing him, precious gentleman that he was, in such a vulgar position between your thighs, with that same innocent boyish look he habitually wore that was somehow undisturbed in spite of the unseemly behaviors, “you may, JoJo,” you breathed almost deliriously.

With precision you were certain had to be instinctive, his tongue flicked against your clit, starting slow and soft but gaining more vehemence in no time at all, broadly dragging his tongue over the entirety of your pussy. He hummed as he tasted you, so delicately sweet and made all the better by the way you profusely whimpered his name.

With tremendous skill that was not suggested by his lack of experience, he lapped at your pussy, drinking you like a fine, heady wine. It was with only little effort he rendered you an unrestrained, spasming mess of shaky limbs and lewd squeals.

Your breath came out harsh and ragged, hardly controllable as you fought against the tightness building in your core to keep yourself from coming undone, but that proved an inordinate challenge.

“JoJo, I’m close,” you moaned and he eyed you with a look that bordered on uncertainty but your body’s quaking response served to placate any confusion, “please, god, don’t stop!”

He took your words with the utmost importance and continued with quite the same effectiveness as before but it did not take much more effort for the tension to snap and the blinding glow of orgasm to suffuse your entire being, burning like wildfire across your florid skin.

“JoJo,” you said through a feeble exhale while you tried your best to return to a semi-coherent state, “thank you.”

He smiled brightly and gave a little chuckle as he pulled himself off his knees. “You’re quite adorable,” he beamed and gently trailed the tips of his fingers across your pelvis.

You felt your face heat up with the embers of embarrassment, you should not have felt quite so self-conscious by his remark after he’d already seen you in such a lubricious situation and yet it seemed to fluster you more than any sexual act ever could.

Still holding tightly to your timorous disposition, you glanced up just in time to watch as Jonathan removed the last of his clothes. You sat with bated breath as he rolled his underwear down his thighs hoping for a better view of what you had only gotten a peek at through the constraint of his pants.

His stature alone led you to expect that he would be huge, but not even you couldn’t have guessed how vastly reality would exceed your expectations because he was positively enormous. You stared up at him with a vague look of alarm, a breath caught in your throat and you felt all at once a bit hesitant, certainly he couldn't think all of that was going to fit, could he?

“Do you still wish for me to continue?” He asked as he knelt cautiously over you and held firmly to the base of his cock, eager drops of precum pearled at the tip and cascaded smoothly down the shaft, heightening his anticipation.

You offered him an uneasy nod, you had wanted this for so long that you weren’t about to back out from the formidable impression his length had made upon you.

He granted you a reassuring caress along the side of your waist and lined himself up with your entrance. God, he somehow looked even bigger when held against you, in fact, his entire gigantic frame seemed downright imposing, capable of dwarfing yours completely.

His hand found your hip, offering enough support for him to smoothly press into you. Though he had amply prepared you, it was still a rather cumbersome task to take all of him. Each inch threatened to push you beyond your limits and it took all you had not to give a lewd shriek of pleasure as your tight walls spread around his daunting girth. “A-are you alright?” He stuttered sheepishly with a look of concern in his eyes as though dreaded by the thought that he may accidentally hurt you.

“Yes… but, please, you’re so big, just go slow.”

He nodded determinedly and deliberately modulated his pace to ensure you were comfortable, though the little plea you had so earnestly squealed served more to fuel the newfound sense of pride that swelled in his chest and he felt, at last, completely organic in his actions.

He immediately gleaned enjoyment from the tightness of your cunt. You were so soft and warm around him, it might have been the closest thing to bliss he’d ever felt. “Dear, you feel amazing, just perfect for me,” he crooned as his arms slowly curled around your chest in an embrace, it was the act of holding you as close as he was able that allowed for a more intimate position and through each slow thrust of his hips, each sensation was redoubled.

“JoJo—” you mewled insensibly, your mind was far too dizzy from your previous release and the pleasure of being around him to muster any further intelligible response. He had only just begun to fuck you and your back was already arching desperately off the mattress to meet his every thrust.

“I love to hear you say my name,” Jonathan said as sweetly as he could through gritted teeth, “please, say it again.”

“JoJo!” You cried, heeding little, the possibility of being heard from the neighboring room, “JoJo, you feel so good!”

“That’s right, my love, and look at you, taking me so well, so beautiful.”

The rhythm of his thrusts became more frantic and harsh. The strength of his hips kept you pinned to the mattress as he pounded into you with far less grace than he started with.

There was little your small figure could do to compete against the more hectic movements of his massive frame but vacillate between incessantly clawing at his shoulders and pliantly accepting him until that familiar heat began to bubble again in your abdomen, twisting you like a tightly wound spring that threatened to pop at any given moment.

Your breath came out in hot plumes that melted against his chest. He was so deep within you that, even with the slight restraint of your legs coiled around his waist, every thrust left you feeling overwhelmingly full and damn near delirious each time he hit one particular spot. You were virtually powerless to combat the sensation that suddenly overcame you, a blaze of white-hot pleasure burned from inside out as you came entirely undone, letting out a litany of curses that accompanied disjointed words of satisfaction, it was altogether a terribly unladylike scene, but you hadn’t the mind to care, all you feasibly make sense of was the brilliant sensation that had befallen you.

He held onto your hips to keep you steady as he continued to drive somewhat haphazardly into you, fucking you through the final aftershocks of your orgasm, he was certain of your pleasure so he could, at last, focus on finding his own. Of course, after how tightly you had been squeezing him, it was not too far off, the ungodly feeling of warmth that had filled him since the moment he’d been inside you had finally proven too much for him to contend with and he couldn’t longer stave off the desperate need that had bloomed in him. It only took a few more labored thrusts for him to reach his peak, finally cumming into you while he moaned your name in such a pleasing tone that you felt your walls again clamp around his sensitive cock.

“I’m sorry,” he said, panting frantically as he came down from his climax and pulled out of you, “I hope I was not too rough.”

“JoJo, you have nothing to be sorry about, you were wonderful,” you muttered, quite breathless yourself as you weakly moved to stroke his cheek where he kept himself positioned above you.

“Are you certain? I would never want to hurt you, even if not on purpose, you are so dear to me—”

“That’s enough of that,” you said and suddenly, summoning all your remaining strength, you pushed him to the mattress below and moved to straddle his waist, “you, Jonathan Joestar, we’re perfect. No one has ever made me feel like that before

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he began, softly and in that same dulcet voice, now a little sleepier after the exertion of making love to you, “I would very much like for you to stay with me tonight."

“Of course I will.”

He offered you a satisfied hum in return and drew you up closer to him. You felt so safe in his strong, gentle hands, that it seemed precisely where you belonged. After years of pining, all you wanted was finally yours and it was even more wonderful than you could have imagined.

The following morning arrived early with a gloomy grey sun that only moderately illuminated the sky. Your body was sore and tired from the previous night’s exploits but being wrapped dutifully in your lover’s arms was a treasure worth its weight in gold. Before the day could get properly on, however, you had hurried out of Jonathan’s room before you had the chance to be caught by the overseer of the building and given a moral denigration for your improper choices. So you and JoJo said your brief goodbyes and settled on a rendezvous later that day.

Jonathan was then left to spend the rest of the morning in contemplative quiet, mulling over his curious turn in luck, it was enough to make him feel at ease. That feeling of peace, however, was short-lived when Dio decided to drop in unannounced.

“My, JoJo, it would appear that you got up to a rather unsavory business last night,” Dio said with forced nonchalance, though internally he was seething.

“Oh, Dio, I did not… think that you would hear.”

“Well, I must say, I never thought you would’ve had the pluck to do anything of the sort,” Dio continued to further jibe his brother. “Though I wouldn’t say, but she absconded from here quite early, are you certain she was properly satisfied? It would lead one to surmise that she has gone in search of someone with a bit more experience to suit her needs. If that is the case, then feel free to send her to my door.”

Jonathan said nothing and only looked on at Dio with vague embarrassment, but he refused to play into his brother’s hand, what he had shared with you transcended any of the indignation Dio might have inspired within him.

Of course, when you returned that afternoon, Dio was forced to eat those words with a side of the freshly baked birthday cake you had brought specially for Jonathan. It was with a degree of pageantry often untypical of him that Jonathan invited Dio to share the confection in a show of celebration for their birthdays. For once, Jonathan was rather glad that the days fell in such close proximity. Normally he maligned the idea for Dio always seemed more accomplished than he in spite of his humble origins, but the present circumstances, aided by your presence, warranted a certain level of pomp that Jonathan was able to delight in, though Dio found the whole situation too vexing or otherwise disgustingly saccharine to glean amusement enough to muster even pithy derision and instead only sulkily poked at the dessert before claiming boredom as a suitable excuse for his exit. Of course, it had all left him rather piqued and only served to swell the resentment he felt towards the brother he already claimed to so staunchly dislike. That being said, his ill-temper did little to detract from the warmth and glow of newfound love nor mislay the eagerness you felt to rekindle passion shared the previous night, this time with far fewer apprehensions.

#jonathan joestar x reader #jonathan joestar #jjba x reader #jjba smut #jjba jonathan #jjba fanfic #phantom blood #one shot #fanfic #jojo's bizarre adventure fanfic #jojo x reader #ao3 link #cross posted on ao3 #x reader #from my requests

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the-nosy-neighbor · 7 days ago

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Time in the Julie Update

Whose fault is the early spring and ensuing actions?

Spoilers

It’s the clock’s fault. Barnaby states in the radio show:

WALLY: Thank you. Onto the going-ons… Tick-tock, tick-tock- The friendly face of our clock has spun! That means it’s time we bid our Homewarming season a heartfelt farewell as Springtime springs into Home once more!

BARNABY: Feels like he spun a couple’a turns too early if you ask me! Whatever happened to askin’ a ground-dog if he’s seen his shadow before bringin’ in the spring? There just ain’t any courtesy left in this town!

Now, we haven’t had this clock the entire time. It is a new addition. Also, they don’t have clock hands, so we don’t know precisely what is meant for clock spins. I am assuming it is days, since we are early, but not super early, but also not . If we don’t have hands, perhaps what is meant is that the clock unit itself spins, though with the same face, it’s hard to say.

Interestingly, we have two very close views of the clock face:

This concept says the eyes and the mouth moves, so potentially the clock face changes. There is also the possibility that the nose spins to indicate time. I’m not sure, though.

But: we have our first good look at Eddie’s watch, which we know from the above is the only other timepiece in Home. Now, we know there is a clock in the rainbow monster den, but they aren’t in Home. We have seen something that looks like it might be Julie's clock (shared by Clown) but I haven't seen it on the site.

We can see that is shares the same face, and it is probably in the same orientation with no change to the features.

Earlier art depicting the watch:

The design has obviously changed. This matches with the concept art for the clock, though. I have suggested before that the watch is split into day and night because we have the horrors after dark. I’m assuming the Eddie has the watch because he is out most of the day and not near the clock. Could be something else, but that makes sense to me.

Julie confirms for us that they can’t be out after dark when she tells the flower that she has to go in because they can’t be out at night, but she will be back. Sally introduced the idea in the Halloween storybook. She also points out the flower will be safe, insinuating that the neighbors would not be.

Regardforgetfulnesssilence:

Julie: It’s gonna get dark soon and we’re not supposed to be outside. You’ll be safe though! I’ll come back soon.

Wally (Remember?) Did all that really happen, Julie?

Back to the original thought: Clock turns. Barnaby points out that the clock itself is early. Concepts of time show up:

Sweet Briar:

SALLY: For many clock turns, the good fairy Howdy would raise young princess Julie into a big and strong rainbow monster. But to keep her origins a secret, he would give her the name Sweet Briar.

Radio Show:

JULIE: (Doing a light, silly voice.) I’ll say! (Doing a low silly voice.) No! Me first, me first! (Doing a 3rd silly voice.) I’ll tell you, Mr. Frankly, it’s so lovely to be blooming in the same town as THE Julie Joyful!

FRANK: Is it? (Playful snort.) Even with the earlier Springtime?

JULIE: Wha-! (Doing a 3rd silly voice.) Especially for that! The early Springtime wake up call was just what mother nature ordered! Now Home can see my beauty for even longer than before!

Tearsremembranceinstability:

Julie: (She sounds very sad.) Was that not enough? Do you want to get me into trouble? Why are you doing this to me? Was it because of the early spring? Are you mad at me for that? I don’t know why that happened. It’s not my fault!

Regardforgetfulnesssilence:

Julie: (She says it sternly.) You should be opening up by now. I thought giving you some time to yourself would help…But spring sprung so many clock turns ago! What do you have to say for yourself?

This does make me wonder about the length of clock turns. Spring sprung so many clock turns ago could mean that it is hours, but it could also be days. We don't have any indication that it is one day that this occurs. I don't think that flowers would notice the difference between 2 clock turns if it is hours.

#welcome home #welcome home theories #welcome home arg #julie joyful #the joyfuls

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heylittleriotact · 20 days ago

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WIP Whenever

@razildor @pseudospaceship @xxnashiraxx have tagged me over the past few days, and I've been so busy/tired that I haven't been able to sit down and actually work on anything, which is weird for me. I'm sad my output has dwindled and will for the next little bit due to work stuff, but c'est la vie - it's better to not have time to write than to have time to do it and be plagued with writer's block so I'll take what I can get.

It seems like springtime has brought out the horny in many of us in the Emmrook fandom, and I'm over here writing intensely emotional conversations about death and grief, but if you know me, that comes as no surprise.

Anyway, here's a little bit of what I'm working on for the next chapter of i heard people are dying to get in here. I've got more smut prompts I need to work on too (thanks for sending them in if you did - I will get to them... it's just gonna take some time.)

No tags: if you see this, please post your wip and tag me so I can snoop it <3

Wintersend Eve

The holiday season wasn't particularly relaxing when you worked at a funeral home, as it turned out. In fact, it was statistically the busiest time of the year: the frail and elderly were more likely to succumb to death's call when the conditions were cold and bleak. Inclement weather made for icy roads and parking lots, so there were more fatal car accidents and falls. The worst part of all was the notable uptick in suicides and overdoses around this time of year: the holidays really seemed to be a breaking point some people, and every time during the week leading up to Wintersend when a new call came in where the decedent was resting at the medical examiner, Rook felt sad.

Sad for the person who had left. Sad for their family who would forever have to navigate this time of year while being reminded of the tragedy associated with it.

Taking vacation time around Wintersend was basically unheard of at McDermott & Rafferty: in order to keep up with the higher than normal call volume, only a certain number of staff were permitted time off over the entire month, and those available dates were snatched up within hours of the calendar rolling over in the new year.

Rook was fortunate that due to the rotation of her schedule and sheer luck, she'd manage to swing an extra day off after Wintersend, which then rolled into her normal weekend off, so she ended up with four glorious days off in a row.

McDermott & Rafferty was open three-hundred and sixty-four days of the year, open for all other statutory holidays, with the only exception being the day of Wintersend. Even then, it operated on a skeleton crew of staff: one person in the call centre, two transfer drivers to be available to remove any decedents from where they passed away, and two funeral directors on call, each taking one half of the day, should anyone urgently wish to speak with a funeral director.

Emmrich had graciously offered to cover the first half of Wintersend until noon. After that, Leigh Ernesto would take over, and the regular on-call schedule would resume.

Rook wasn't crazy about the fact that their first Wintersend morning together would be soberly spent within arm's reach of Emmrich's cellphone, rather than wrapped around each other and indulging in mimosas and sweet rolls while thick fluffy snowflakes fell outside, but it was the nature of the profession, and she was grateful to be spending it with him at all. Besides, once he was no longer on call, he had the same days off as Rook.

“Joan asked me yesterday if you’d met my parents.” She mentioned from her place at the end of the couch where she was scrolling her phone, half reading through key studying points for her upcoming final exam, half-watching the TV where black and white re-runs of Alfred Hitchcock Presents flickered on the screen.

“Did she?” He mused, flipping the page of his book and returning to massaging her feet in his lap.

“Yeah - I told her you got in a huge fight with them and kicked my dad’s ass.”

Emmrich tutted, “I really wish you wouldn’t tell our colleagues such outlandish things, darling - wasn’t it awkward enough to have to sit down with Perry and sign that Consensual Relationship Agreement last week?”

By the time they both arrived at work on Monday after the party - separately - it became rapidly apparent that everyone at McDermott & Rafferty had learned of their relationship somehow over the course of the weekend.

‘Spotted leaving the party together and looking very cozy while doing so’ was the rumour that had circulated the ranks of all hundred-odd staff members in less time than it took for an Amazon delivery.

The source of the rumour was unclear - it had travelled so quickly through so many channels that getting to the root of it proved nearly impossible - not like it mattered: they had left the party together and they were very cozy. Denying it would only open the door to further embellishments and outright fabrications: the last thing Rook wanted to be doing was damage control on some bullshit nonsense about she and Emmrich fucking in a hearse or something.

“I mean if people want to keep asking me questions about my personal, off-the-clock life, they’re welcome to,” Rook snorted, “That doesn’t mean I have to tell them the truth - it’s none of their fucking business. I’ll keep making up increasingly insane shit until they get the point.”

She brushed the ball of her free foot over the front of Emmrich’s pants, pleased when his relaxed frame stiffened at the feeling of her toes on his flaccid cock: she knew exactly what she was doing with the flippant little movement.

“Besides—” she continued, “Joan knows you well enough to know that a bare-knuckle brawl with your girlfriend’s dad is the last thing you’d be pulled into: it was just my special, polite little way of telling her to fuck off.”

"I admit I do feel better not having to be quite so secretive about things." He drank from his cup of tea, and Rook reached for her glass of wine on the coffee table next to her: red, intense, and pricier than anything she could ever justify buying. "I just worry that some see it as..." he hesitated.

"Inappropriate?" Rook finished for him before taking sip and setting her glass back down. "The cradle-robbing creeper used his position of power and authority over the young doe-eyed nymph and seduced her while continuing to exercise that position of power in a way that puts her at a disadvantage?"

Emmrich's cheeks reddened, "I wouldn't put it quite so bluntly, but–"

"But what? You're hardly in any 'powerful' position: you're not my boss or my supervisor - as far as hierarchy flowcharts go at McDermott & Rafferty we're basically on the same level, the only difference is you get paid more and deal with more bullshit. The only real power imbalance that anyone could point out would be the fact that you teach one of my embalming classes–"

"Precisely, and–"

"– and I won't even have the prerequisite course completed so I can sign up for that one until later next year," Rook forged on. "We've already chatted about it: you'll go on leave for that semester, and someone else will fill in for you while I'm taking the course so there's no conflict of interest. You've already talked to the program director about it, and been forthcoming, so there's literally no reason for anyone to act fucking weird about it."

He got tangled up like this some times, she had learned: left to sit with his own thoughts for too long, he'd get lost in hypotheticals and 'what ifs' and outcomes that were well beyond his control: they had talked about this - at least three times - each time leading to the same outcome: it was going to be alright and no one was going to put him on a registry that precluded him from being within five-hundred yards of a school. He hadn't done anything wrong: Rook was a consenting adult who was interested in bouncing on his cock because she enjoyed it, not because he had somehow tricked her into it.

"Rook..." he began solemnly, closing the book and setting it down.

"Emmrich," she retorted.

Something was bothering him - she could tell by the slight knit of his brow, and the way his mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes introspective and searching for something unseen.

"What's actually on your mind?" She prodded. "We've been over this so many times, I'm beginning to think you're using it as a front for something else."

His eyes drifted to his lap: her feet across it and his book. His palm whispered over the cover as if trying to soothe the inanimate object made of wood-pulp and ink.

"It's a personal question for many of us, so I don't ask it lightly: what inspired you to pursue the funeral profession, darling?"

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